


And Every Word Is A Cry For Help

by Bittodeath



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Asphyxiation, Attempted Murder, Commander Fox Week, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fix-It of Sorts, Fucked Up, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mind Control, Multi, Possession, Referenced Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25108588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittodeath/pseuds/Bittodeath
Summary: Commander Fox knows he cannot go on like this, and so he does the only thing he can: he asks the Force for help.And the Force sends its son.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/CC-1010 | Fox/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 121
Kudos: 255





	1. Mind Control

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Commander Fox Week, each day is a chapter. I have everything written but the last, bonus chapter that I'm working on. Said bonus chapter will be smut and can totally be skipped.  
> Please mind the tags because things are incredibly fucked up and get worse until they're better and Fox is Not In A Good Place.

He was stuck in his own head. It was the most terrifying thing in the galaxy, and he had no words for it. He didn’t forget when the Chancellor – _the Sith Lord_ – sent him on missions, oh no. He even knew everything about his plans – about Order 66. He wanted to rage and scream and tear violently at the walls, at the man, at everything. He couldn’t.

He was stuck in his own head, with rising headaches and growing pains, more tired than he ought to be, even with the exhausting life he led. Should he attempt to talk about what he knew, or act contrarily to the Chancellor’s plans, he would find himself suddenly unable to move on his own volition, something _other_ taking control.

The chips in his head and his brothers’ were, in a terrible, horrific way, a small mercy. His brothers wouldn’t remember. Wouldn’t know how wrong their actions would be, wouldn’t feel like tearing at their chest and expose their still beating hearts for forgiveness. They would become numbers, droids made of flesh, and as much as it revulsed him – it was a small mercy.

He was stuck in his own head. He recalled perfectly the blood dripping from Sidious’ fingers, white, bony, claw-like things tearing wounded flesh apart for a sacrifice granting him even more power. He had nightmares filled with glowing, corrupted golden eyes staring right at him, and cold laughter chilling his bones.

He walked, and breathed and joked, living just like his brothers – but inside, oh, inside he was screaming. He wanted to eat his own blaster, but even that was refused to him. First because he wouldn’t, couldn’t condemn another _vod_ to this agonizing nightmare of an existence. And second, because he physically couldn’t do it.

He’d tried once.

He still remembered parting his lips to accommodate his blaster, his hands ready to fire, and simply… freezing. He remembered his body stopping to cooperate, standing up on its own volition until he was staring at himself in the mirror, pulling his weapon out of his mouth to stick it against his forehead. He remembered seeing his own lips stretch into a grim, pleased, _horrific_ smile that wasn’t his own, and his voice coming out, soft and falsely comforting.

“Now, now, CC-1010, I can’t have you _ruin_ all my beautiful work, can I? Your life belongs to me. Whether you live or die, it will be on _my_ orders. You. Are. Mine.”

He had vomited and cried afterwards – after his body had come back from its trek in the lower levels, pulling a blaster bolt in a _kid’s_ head, after the thing that controlled him and trapped him in his own head had relinquished command. There had been the promise of more, if he tried again.

He stood, staring at the mirror like it could answer him. He was stuck in his own head, with no way out. Shuddering, he went through the motions to get himself ready, like each morning. Sometimes, his hands lingered involuntary on his body, in ways that weren’t quite his own and left him feeling chilled to the core.

Days went by in a blur, and no one really… commented on it. His brothers had just ended up accepting that this, this grotesque farce, was who he was. They called him Fox, for he had all the cunning of one. It was the name he had earned back on Kamino, _his_ name, and he’d like to say that no one could take it from him, but he knew it wasn’t true.

And to be completely honest, as time passed, he felt less like a fox, and more like a fly caught in a web, with no help coming, watching as the spider came closer to wrap him up tighter. He wanted to cry, only managed to smile tiredly.

“Thire. Anything new?”  
“You look like you crawled out of a ditch. Again.”  
“I said anything _new_.”

Thire shook his head fondly, and clapped a hand over his shoulder.

“No, Fox, nothing new. Or at least, nothing that needs your attention. We already have troopers dealing with the needed interventions.”  
“Then maybe I’ll tackle that monstrous pile of documents on my desk before it gains sentience”, Fox grumbled, dragging a hand over his face.

Force, he was tired. And he couldn’t even look forward to the end of the war, because unlike his brothers, he knew what was waiting ‘round the corner. His only hope was that a Jedi would see that something was wrong with him. Force, decommission or reconditioning sounded like a kriffing relief now, and he couldn’t believe himself for thinking that.

“Fox?” Thire asked, sounding concerned.  
“It’s nothing”, he replied. “I’m just… tired.”

His comm beeped, and he looked at it, only to see he had a summon from the Chancellor. His blood froze in his veins, bones turning to ice, heart hammering in his chest and head full of white-noise.

“I’ve been summoned to the Chancellor’s office”, he said in a clipped tone, and he knew Thire was rolling his eyes under his bucket.

_Please, someone have mercy on me. Please, of Force, please. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t._

Someone.

Anyone.

A Jedi.

_Please, oh Force, please._


	2. High-Speed Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Skywalker has been accused of bombing the Jedi Temple and is on the run, with one... "hostage".
> 
> Fox really had to wonder what he'd done to offence the Force like that.

Of all the things Fox hadn’t expected, being taken “hostage” – he wondered at the supposed value he made as a hostage, being a clone – by the general-turned-traitor Skywalker wasn’t high on the list. In fact, it wasn’t even on the list. He also knew there had been a fuck up somewhere, because it shouldn’t have been _Skywalker_ , of all people, running for his life and making people wonder at his sanity. Sidious wouldn’t have planned something this dangerous, when he was already so close to his goal.

At the same time, Fox being the one along with Skywalker was a good thing for his continued survival: through him, Sidious could know what was going on, and he wouldn’t relinquish that easily, especially in a mess he hadn’t planned for. Had it been any other clone, they would have had no chance of surviving. What worried Fox was if Skywalker really had lost his mind and Fallen, without Sidious pushing him overboard. Because if that was what happened, Fox was in deep, deep shit. He’d already been in deep _osik_ , but he’d just sunk deeper.

But, no, Skywalker – he wanted to call him _General_ and _Lord Vader_ and _sir_ , but another part of him screamed _TRAITOR_ and he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t fumble and call him Traitor Vader, general, if he tried to speak – looked like he was perfectly sane, or as sane as he ever was, considering the suicidal manoeuvres he was pulling, grim-faced and determined. Fox guessed he would be like that, too, if he’d been accused of bombing the Temple and killing off a civilian and the Jedi had been a _tad_ too eager to relinquish him to the Senate’s tender mercies.

“Are you trying to kill us, sir?” he finally managed to ask as their speeder dived again, trying to shake off their tails.  
“And what use would that be?” the Jedi asked, sending him a slight grin.  
“I don’t know sir, you tell me. I’m surprised we’re still alive.”  
“You too don’t like piloting?”  
“This is not piloting, sir. This is suicide.”  
“You’re not the first one to tell me”, Anakin grumbled. “Don’t worry, Commander. You’ll still be in one piece when I’m done.”  
“Am I not your hostage?”

Anakin looked at him, affronted.

“You really think I’d kill you if they kriffed me over?”  
“That is the threat you made”, Fox pointed out.  
“You know this city better than anyone else”, Anakin replied. “I need your help disappearing for a while. I’ve been set up, and I need to find out who did that. Because I’ve been thinking about it over and over and the thing is, it shouldn’t have been me in that cell. It should have been Ahsoka. She would have been accused. And none of this makes sense.”  
“Why-would-someone-set-up-your-Padawan”, Fox asked in a rush, unsure whether the words would be allowed to pass his lips, and feeling relief when they were.  
“Do you think I’d be here if I knew?” Skywalker barked through another evasive manoeuvre. “Not that I have anything against you, you’re charming company, Fox, but I’d rather it’d be over a drink than during a high-speed chase.”  
“Showing off your skills _is_ usually considered a successful flirting technique”, Fox replied, and oh Force, _WHY_ wasn’t the Chancellor shutting him up _now_ instead of letting him dig his own grave. He turned slightly and looked at him. “Are _you_ flirting with me, General?”  
“I don’t know”, Anakin replied with a cocky smirk. “Is it working?”

Flirtatious bastard. He’d clearly learnt from his Master, if Cody was to be believed.

“Not a chance, sir”, Fox scoffed, feeling a smile tug at his lips under his helmet, and Anak- _Skywalker_ laughed.

Fox was also pretty sure if they didn’t stop twirling soon, he would end up throwing up on the side of the speeder. Thankfully, they dived sharply, disappeared in the shadows, and Skywalker motioned him step out. He did something to the speeder, which flew forward, out of their hiding spot, and went down in flames. Reckless _di’kut_.

“C’mon”, Skywalker said, tugging on his arm like he was a reluctant child. “Being executed is a shitty way to die. At least, last time, I had an entire arena to show off too.”  
“And it has nothing to do with the fact that Senator Amidala was there”, Fox replied snidely, following him. “No, not this way. That’s a dead-end. You took me as a guide, then let me guide.”  
“I have no idea what you mean”, Skywalker replied, straight-faced. “Can I trust you? Not to arrest me, I mean?”  
“Can you?” Fox asked back, feeling adrenaline coursing through his veins as they jogged farther and ducked into smaller corridors that made it difficult for him to pass with the bulk of his armour. “That’s the thing with trust, sir. It’s difficult to know who you can really trust.”

His chest constricted, lungs simply stopping, and he found himself gasping for air in his helmet. He hadn’t meant to imply anything about Palpatine, but the Sith had apparently taken it for himself. He stopped running, panic mounting as he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t-

“Fox!” Skywalker shouted, running back to him, and when he didn’t answer, wrenching his helmet off. “Oh, Force”, he said, followed by the foulest Huttese swearing Fox had ever heard.

Skywalker slung an arm around his waist and tipped him forward, following first-aid gestures for someone choking to the letter, but it was no use when it was the Force simply stopping him from breathing.

“Fucking _BREATHE!”_ , Skywalker screamed, pushing the Force into his voice to make a Suggestion.  
Fox was familiar with Force-Suggestion, had seen it used on people, had it used on him. It was discreet and soft, usually, so you wouldn’t notice. Skywalker’s version was the equivalent of taking a sledgehammer to a crystal glass. He cried out in pain and, in doing so, realized he _could breathe_ , Skywalker had shattered Sidious’ control over his lungs, and he took large gulps of air, half-collapsed into the Jedi’s arms.

He’d also destroyed the apparently-flawless-at-first-sight shields Fox had, revealing his tattered, fraying mind for Skywalker to see – not that he would know that, of course. He simply felt the General go absolutely still, his grip tightening on him.

“What kind of _bantha poodoo_ is that?!”

Fox tried to straighten up, but only managed to grab Skywalker’s arm.

“H-Help”, he gasped. He took a breath, and realized Sidious hadn’t stopped him, and he tightened his grasp on Skywalker, refusing to let his chance go. “ _Help_ ”, he pleaded, throwing his desperation to the Jedi, who flinched at the assault and almost dropped him. “The Sith”, he gasped, “he controls me.”  
“ _Not on my watch_ ”, Skywalker growled, and had Fox been feeling any better, he would have worried he might have accidentally pushed the man over the mystical line and into the Dark Side. “Sleep, Fox. I’ve got you. _I will help_.”

The Suggestion was much subtler this time, but given that he had no shields to speak of, it settled comfortably into his mind, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> osik: shit  
> di'kut: idiot


	3. Touch-Starved

Fox dreamed of touch. Of skin against skin – a warm palm against his arm, the touch of a forehead against his. He dreamed of fingers carding through his short-cropped hair, of arms wrapping around him and keeping him grounded. He was a clone, he wasn’t made to weather the storm by himself, but ever since the Sith took control, he’d had no contact with anyone aside from the medic’s, when he had to go through the bi-yearly assessment. And clone medics were on the front, mostly, leaving him and his men to the cold hands of the nat-born.

That had been two years ago, following the start of the war. Two long years through horrors untold, without a touch grounding him. The closest things were his brothers hugs and taps, but those were considerably lessened by their armours. Fox didn’t touch people, be it through clothes or skin to skin. At first, it had been his choice, his fear – that he would contaminate people with the oily touch of the Sith. That he would hurt them. And then, it had been Sidious.

Sidious had kept him from others, and Fox’s only contact had been his own hands. Sidious never touched him directly – clones were definitely _too_ beneath him for that – but he had no such restrictions for using Fox’s own hands, or the Force. Fox’s opinion was that being touch-starved was by far preferable to the cold, freezing feeling of hands underneath his armour, teasing, scratching, sometimes even drawing blood. His heartrate spiked each time he felt the Force-touch between his shoulder-blades, mimicking in a horrific fashion the steadying touch of _vode_. Nausea flared when the hands splayed on his stomach, scratching like a lover might have, he guessed, if he’d ever had a lover. There was no lover, though, had never been one, and Fox abhorred the touch.

Yes, it was better to have no touch than to have _that_. He looked at his brothers and felt longing at their hearty claps, gentle hugs and freely given touches – but then he would remember the cold, slimy Force hands and feel like heaving, the feeling settling in his stomach and never allowed to bloom into full sickness.

The truth was, he had forgotten what a true touch really felt like.

“Easy, soldier”, a voice said, low and soothing, and he almost startled at the warm touch against his forehead. “I’m shielding your mind and your Force-bond. He cannot reach you, not as long as I stand here.”  
“General?” he rasped, and he felt like he’d been zapped again, the Force-lightning firing his nerves and preventing him from thinking.  
“Yes. Force, Fox, I’m so sorry. We should have noticed earlier.”  
“The Sith”, he breathed, and lurched when he realized he could _talk_. Freely. His eyes opened and he grabbed Skywalker’s tabards to pull him forward, his eyes rolling crazily. “The Sith, sir”, he choked. “The Chancellor, he is the Sith. You have to stop him, you have to!”  
“Easy, _easy_ ”, Skywalker said, and he felt… strange, in the Force. “I know. When I… obliterated your shields, I saw everything. I’m sorry for the invasion of your privacy, trooper, but I felt like you wouldn’t mind so much getting free of his influence. I know I would.”

There was the press of something against his lips, and a large, warm, callused hand cupping his head to help him drink. He did so greedily, the water soothing his throat and easing some of the tightness he felt – unless that was the Force.

“Thank you, sir”, he finally breathed, difficultly peeling his eyes open to look at the young Knight.

He had never noticed Skywalker’s eyes were so blue. He thought, distantly, that maybe he could drown in them.  
Skywalker chuckled.

“I assure you, you won’t.”  
“Kriffing _Jetii_ ”, he muttered, cheeks flaming when he realized that, since he was shielding him, Skywalker was very well aware of his thoughts.  
“More seriously, I’m going to rid you of that Sith bond you have festering in your mind, but it won’t be pleasant at all.”  
“Is that _Jetii_ talk for karking awful?”  
“Glad we understand each other”, Skywalker replied. “Try to think of something pleasant?”

Very gently, the Jedi cupped his hands around his face, thumbs along his temples, and closed his eyes. Fox didn’t exactly _feel_ him in his head like he’d felt the Sith, but there was… something. He wasn’t Force-sensitive, but like all his brothers, he’d been taught to shield his mind – not like it was very useful when facing Sithdamned… well, Sith. It had been very different when it was Sidious, who went out of his way to make it as painful as possible.

And then, there was something _ripping_ and he shivered in his mind, crying out in the Jedi’s hands, writhing in pain. Skywalker’s hands tightened around his face, and Fox felt an immense pressure – probably his power. It had to be that. It was warm and searing, like fire. Devastating, yet cleansing. Suddenly, his mind cleared, and he paused in amazement at the realization that he could _think_ , clearly.

“Hang on just a second more, I’ll disable your chip”, Skywalker said.

This time, he didn’t even feel it. He opened his eyes again when the presence eased and Skywalker sat down heavily, his breathing harsh, face slick with perspiration. The Jedi’s hand brushed against his cheek gently.

“Sleep, now. You need it.”

The suggestion was once more too strong to resist, and he fell asleep almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vode: brothers  
> Jetii: Jedi


	4. Scars

“It will scar”, Skywalker said, two days later.

They were deep in the lower-levels, and had been running almost constantly. Well, Skywalker had been running. Fox had been stumbling after him until the Jedi threw him over his shoulder, still wrong-footed after he’d been stolen from the Sith’s grasp. The Guard had been relentless and he was proud of them, though it only told them that Sidious was very much aware that Fox was freed, and had probably told the Jedi everything.

Fox was pretty sure Ana- _Skywalker_ was seething since he’d found out, but there had been no time for him to really be angry, and exhaustion had made it pretty difficult. As it was, the Jedi had been quite level-headed and intent on them hiding. Fox was hidden under the Jedi’s robes, and both of them were quite dirty by now. The General had tied his hair up and wrapped an old piece of fabric over his face, masking most of it.

“We need to find a place to pause for a bit. Rest and regroup, otherwise we’ll never make it. And I need to at least wash my clothes. Finding something less conspicuous would be better.”

The place turned out to be a ratty motel that rented rooms by the hour. There were only sonics, but it was better than nothing, and Skywalker was quick to divest himself of his ragged and slightly burnt tunics until he was down to his underwear. Fox didn’t interact with the Jedi much and had thought they had more modesty than that – something the clones didn’t have and had made adaptation to Coruscant quite strange in the beginning. He draped the robes on the back of a chair and started to take off his armour, piece by piece, setting them on a rickety table.

“When you said it would scar”, Fox asked, “what did you mean? Sir”, he added belatedly.  
“You can drop the ‘sir’, Fox”, Skywalker said. “As far as the Republic is concerned, I’m a terrorist and a traitor.” He sat down on the too small bed, advertised as a two-persons bed and barely larger than a bunk. “I meant that this was a bond made from Darkness. You will always be more affected by the Dark Side than others, might be prone to headaches or, if I’m not mistaken, bouts of anger. I’m not sure about that last one, I didn’t study the brain as much as a healer.”  
“Well”, Fox said, sitting down as well, “it’s still better than straight up torture.”

Skywalker flinched, and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this, Fox. We should have seen it. Force, how were we so _blind?”_  
“Sir”, Fox said, “at least, now you know, and you’ve freed me from his hand. I would have gone mad. I was desperate.”  
“I trusted him”, Skywalker breathed. “I thought he was my friend. My mentor. And instead, I was nothing more than a tool.” His hand brushed thoughtfully against a thin surgical scar along his abdomen.

Fox was suddenly very conscious of the fact that the Jedi General was mostly naked, and sitting quite close to him. Fox gulped and looked aside, sure his thoughts would get downright inappropriate if he lingered, and with the mess that was his mind at the moment, he really didn’t want to test it.

“What’s the plan ?”  
“Kill the bastard”, Anakin replied. “He’s too powerful to be left alive, I’m not sure we could contain him. And either way, if he has the Senate and the Courts in his pockets, a trial will only be sham.”  
“I’m in. I want to make him pay.”  
“Revenge is not the Jedi way”, Anakin said, and it sounded like a mantra, one he had a hard time believing in.  
“Good thing I’m not a Jedi, then”, Fox answered. “It might not be your way, but it sure is the Mandalorian one. And _I_ want revenge, for what he did and what he planned to do. For myself, for my brothers, and for the Jedi.”  
“You’re a good man, Fox”, Anakin said with a smile.  
“I’m not”, Fox retorted.

The Jedi lifted an eyebrow.

“Man, I have literally been in your head. You are a _good_ man, Fox. Actions speak louder than words, and yours, as far as Sidious let you, have always been kind, compassionate and turned towards others, be it your brothers or civilians. I’m proud to serve by your side.”  
“Technically speaking, you’re _running from justice_ by my side”, Fox quipped, the corner of his lips quirking up.

Skywalker slapped his thigh, smirking.

“Take this off. It needs a wash and I know you’re hurt. I’m not the best at healing, but it’s better than nothing.”  
“You could at least buy me dinner first”, Fox play-growled, before he realized _whom_ exactly he was talking to and flushed, mortified.  
“I could float a pear for you”, Anakin mused. “Between us, it worked quite well with my wife”, he said in a conspirator’s tone.  
“Your wife, sir? I didn’t know Jedi could be married. I thought it was forbidden.”  
“Oh no they can’t”, Anakin replied, “but they kind of cast me off so I’m not going back. Like, seriously? I was only staying for my men’s sake, my Master’s and my Padawan’s. Now I’m on the run without any of them, without my wife, with Sith on the loose and a gorgeous Commander so I think I’m allowed to go a little feral and recognize I have a wife.”

Fox’s lips twitched, and he started to peel off his blacks, which were sticky with dried sewer water and sweat, feeling the Jedi-not-Jedi’s eyes on him. He shivered when Anakin ran light, warm fingers along the long, jagged scar on his back.

“Even here on Coruscant, you haven’t been spared, have you?” the General spoke in a soft voice.  
“You’ve been in my head, sir. You know what happened”, Fox replied, his breathing strained as he struggled out of his blacks with Ana- _Skywalker_ ’s fingers exploring his body curiously, taking in each scar.  
“Yes”, Skywalker replied. “Yes, I know. It isn’t the same as seeing them.”

He felt Skywalker’s breath over his nape, definitely too close to his skin, and abruptly stood up.

“Please don’t”, he said, his voice choked.

His heart was maybe the only thing that remained without scars. He wished to keep it that way.


	5. Solitude / Cuddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _“Udesii, vod”_ : Calm down, brother

Skywalker was caught eventually, which really, they should have been expecting it. Fox managed to escape, the Jedi’s cloak wrapped around himself, hiding most of his armour. Sidious would have no mercy now, he had to know Fox was out of his grip, be it through death or something else. He had too much to lose. Fox had _felt_ alone before, especially under Sidious’s hand, but never before had he _been_ alone. There was always a brother nearby, and these last two weeks, Skywalker had constantly been at his side. But with Skywalker caught and put on a sham of a trial and sentenced to _death_ , of all things, Fox was truly, completely alone.

He didn’t like that. Clones hadn’t been bred to be alone, they were social by nature. Prime had only been solitary by the force of circumstances and too much accumulated hurt. Add to that the threat of Sidious sending someone after him – because Sidious would never stoop so low as to hunt him himself – and Fox felt very much like a shaak who had been driven away from their flock, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was scared. He didn’t dare to come out of the seediest places of Coruscant, where he and Skywalker had been hiding – the Jedi had chosen the guise of a _prostitute_ , of all things, and had been arrested like this, and Fox would have laughed at the sight if it hadn’t been so dramatic.

He felt alone, in the motel bed that would have been too small for two grown men, and was too big for him alone. He missed how Anak- _Skywalker_ would shift a bit, simply so Fox wouldn’t be uncomfortable, even when they had no choice but to be pressed so tight together. He missed his near constant chatter: Skywalker was neither calm nor quiet. He was always moving, always talking, always _doing something_. Even when he slept. Padmé’s name had slipped from his lips more than once as he dreamt, and Fox would have thought it was a wonder he hadn’t been busted before if there hadn’t been an almost equal number of whispers for Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. There had even been a few of Rex and, the last days, of Fox.

Those had almost frightened him – not because he didn’t want them, but because he wanted them _too much_. The man was a Jedi and, barring that, he was still married. There was also the matter of him being condemned to death, that made it all the more painful. So Fox had refused and locked away all his wishes and desires, and Anakin, since his first rebuttal, had respectfully kept his distance, though sometimes, Fox felt his gaze linger. He missed him.

The cloak had long lost his scent, but Fox liked the weight of it, the deep hood that hid him well even though, with his armour, he had no need for that. It felt as though part of Anakin’s essence had been pressed into the fabric. It almost felt like having the tall Jedi Knight draped over him. Fox huddled a little tighter into the cloak, keeping his head down and making himself discreet.

“Commander Fox”, a voice said softly, and he almost jumped out of his skin.

The only reason he didn’t was because of his training, and long months keeping as still as possible in Sidious’ presence. He looked around, and quickly noticed the masked figure standing just beside him.

“Your friend has sent for you, to keep you safe. Come with me.”  
“Who are you?” he asked, tightening his grip on the cloak.

His would-be rescuer slid him something, and when he opened his palm, he recognized the Naboo crest.

“Asylum”, the figure said softly. “Something is bound to happen. Our common friend won’t let himself be executed, and neither will the people who hold him dear.”

Translation: some Jedi and a certain Naboo senator were likely to bust Anakin out if the sentence was to be carried out. He nodded, and followed the masked figure to a hidden speeder. They climbed out of the depths of Coruscant and made to 500 Republica, docking quietly directly to the Naboo Senator’s apartments.

“You found him!” came a relieved voice. “Anakin was so worried”, she added, and he turned to see Senator Padmé Amidala.  
Immediately, he stood at attention;  
“Senator.”  
“Please, none of that, Fox”, she chided him. “Thank you, Moteé. Retrieving him can’t have been easy, even with Anakin’s tips.” She turned to Fox. “Come in. You must have questions.”

There was a hard look in her eyes, probably because her secret husband had been arrested and condemned to death.

“How about you take a shower and put on new clothes? Then we’ll eat something, you must be famished.”  
“Thank you, ma’am”, he replied tightly. “I’m fine.”

He wasn’t. He was lonely still, hungry, tired and itchy. He knew, reasonably, that if Skywalker had made sure he would be sent to his wife, then he was safe. It was hard to believe, though. Padmé simply looked at him, and crossed the space between them to lay her hand on his vambrace. Her hand looked ridiculously small on his armour.

“No, Fox. You’re not.”

He shuddered, and stopped resisting as he was guided to a ‘fresher with a water shower. Clothes were laid on a stool. Men’s clothes. Too big for him – Anakin’s. Trying to keep from breaking after months of fear and weeks on the run with a man he’d hopelessly crushed onto and who was leagues out of his reach, he took his armour off piece by piece, and folded the cloak on top of it. Then he peeled off his blacks, memories of the first and last time he’d done that in the General’s presence bright in his mind. He could still feel his breath over his nape.

The hot shower felt heavenly, and he only hesitated for a second before awkwardly wrapping himself in the numerous Jedi layers. He was slighter than his brothers out on the front, for which he was thankful as it meant his shoulders could actually fit the clothes without ripping them. He had no idea how to properly wrap the layers of undertunics, tunics and tabards, though, and elected to only keep the innermost layer, which he could wrap correctly, and leave the rest hanging, tabards out of the outfit, obi and belt laying discarded with it. He had to roll the pants a bit, but the clothes were clean and smelt good, and he already felt worlds better just being clean and somewhat safe.

He still missed Skywalker. He almost wrapped himself into the dirty cloak again, but elected to simply keep it in hand: it should go back to Skywalker’s wife. It was her right, not his. There was a knock at the door.

“Fox? Is everything alright?”  
“Yes, ma’am. Coming out now”, he replied, voice still tight, and palmed the door open.

Padmé was standing here, petite, beautiful and worried, and it was easy, with the fire in her eyes, to understand how Anakin had fallen in love with her. Her gaze dropped to the cloak, her expression souring slightly.

“I have a chest for you to keep your armour in”, she said. “Now. Anakin couldn’t tell me much, but I understood you were key to some kind of conspiracy, so we will eat and you will tell me all about it.”

The food wasn’t rations, but real food, and after weeks of scrapes and a lifetime of rations, it was heavenly. He felt slightly out of his body, but the food helped, and seeing him devour his meal brought a smile to Padmé’s lips. Stars, but she was beautiful. It also felt like she was assessing him, and he wondered if the General had said something – about leaving the Jedi to be with her. About almost propositioning him. He didn’t know what kind of relationship they had. Instead, he said the next most horrible thing he could think of:

“There’s a Sith in the Senate.”

Of all the Senators, Padmé was probably the one who could the most understand what that meant, exactly. After all, she was married to a Jedi, and had had a Sith Apprentice kill a Jedi Master on her planet. And given the way her lips pinched and she nodded, she already knew that, and what it meant.

“It’s the Chancellor”, came the rushed words, and Padmé turned livid.

Oh yes, she understood. He hung his head down with a weary sigh, feeling the world come down upon them once more. His moment of respite had been brief, but welcome. Now though, now they had a tyranny in the making to topple.

“He has plans within plans, backings for everything, and he’d rather see the galaxy burn than not have it”, he said. “And he wants Skywalker as his Apprentice.” He smiled a bit at that one. “Well, I don’t think he’ll have him now that Anakin knows. He was quite a bit angry to have been played like that, Sidious doesn’t know what’s coming from him.”  
“I have faith in Anakin, but he is currently rigorously held prisoner in a military base and condemned to death. He doesn’t seem to be in the best place to end Sidious’s tyranny.” She nodded. “We’ll have to get you to the Jedi, and you will tell them.” She thought for a second. “Well, we’ll go through Obi-Wan first.”

Fox winced.

“I doubt they’ll believe me. I’m just a clone.”

Padmé glared.

“Forewarned is forearmed. You know more than what you just told me. Anakin was worried, much as he tried no to show it. He told me to get you, and he also told me to warn the Jedi. He specifically gave me coded instructions to use our marriage as a standing point – that he was willing to sacrifice secrecy for the sake of information. So, I am going to go into the Temple as Anakin Skywalker’s wife, and you will come with me and tell them what you know.”

Fox stared at her, smiled and shook his head.

“It’s no wonder he spoke so highly of you. He’s so in love with you, you’d think listening to him that you’ve hung the stars in the sky, and I thought he was being dramatic.” He looked up, taking in the strong, determined woman before him. “Now, I see he was simply being truthful.”  
“Flatterer”, she replied, smiling, but the blush on her cheeks told him she wasn’t indifferent to the compliment. “He spoke quite highly of you, too. Made everyone think you were dead so you’d manage to escape.”  
“He’s a good man”, Fox said with a nod. “I trust him.”

*

Skywalker had been cleared the following day, by the evidence brought forth by his Padawan in the form of the true culprit of the bombing: Padawan Barriss Offee. Fox wanted to be angry at her, he really did… But she was just another victim of the war and Sidious’s machinations. Skywalker seemed to see that as well, if the look he gave her said anything. She had intended to frame her ‘friend’ Ahsoka Tano, but Skywalker’s decision to wrap himself in the Force Illusions he’d learnt from his Master and go in the cell as his own apprentice had thwarted that. Now though, Skywalker was free and coming home. Padmé hadn’t needed to disclose their relationship, but Skywalker’s already frail trust in the Council had been shattered by the accusations against him, especially after they’d renounced him. Oh, they offered to take him back with the title of Master. According to Anakin’s Padawan and his Master, he had bowed, said “no” and walked away. Hadn’t even given his ‘sabre back, and no one seemed to want to try and take it from him. His Padawan, he’d entrusted to his Master, and he’d already arranged to keep his command over the 501st as a non-Jedi GAR member.

The Sith was still a secret from the Council, but Anakin wanted to first explain exactly what had happened with Fox to the two Jedi he was closest to – two Jedi who weren’t exactly surprised by his decision to leave the Order. They would be coming to Padmé’s place later. For now though, Padmé and Fox were waiting for Anakin to arrive from the Temple. Fox was… uncomfortable. He hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed provided for him, which had been way too soft, and it had taken him half of the night to give up and set up camp on the floor instead. Even there, even exhausted, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep. Not when he was alone, without Anakin to watch over his shoulder and assure him Sidious couldn’t reach him.

“We’re gonna be alright”, Padmé whispered, her hand on his arm.

He was still wearing Skywalker’s clothes. It should have been weird, but there was a comfort to it. He clenched the extra fabric on the sleeve between his fingers, and took a breath. Sidious had to think him dead. He couldn’t know Skywalker knew what he really was. He still felt like he was moments away from shattering.  
When Anakin’s speeder finally pulled at the docking bay, he wasn’t alone. Fox’s heart missed a beat when he recognized the distinctive blue and orange painting on his brothers’ armour. Anakin was already jumping out of the speeder and wrapping his wife in a hug, but then, to Fox’s surprise, he turned to him and smiled.

“It’s good to see you, Fox.”  
“I’m glad to see you free, sir”, he replied, begging his voice not to get strangled. 

He tightened his grip on his clothes, and Skywalker reached out questioningly, his fingers a breath away from his face. Fox closed his eyes and gulped.

“Sir.”

Padmé was right there. She would be angry. She would- He felt her small hand squeeze his forearm comfortingly. Then, gentle as ever, Anakin’s fingers trailed from his temple to his chin in a soft caress. He didn’t wrap his arms around him but pressed closer, Anakin’s lips brushing his ear.

“You’re safe now. I won’t let him reach you. Never.”

Fox bit his lips, else he would shatter. Anaki- _Skywalker_ pulled away, and Fox noticed his brothers were there, thrumming with impatience. They pounced on him, armour colliding painfully with him, and hugged him close, letting him burry his face in their necks and finally fall to pieces.

“We were told you were dead”, came Cody’s voice, hoarse with grieved relief. “Oh, Fox’ika. You always have to find the worst trouble, don’t you?”

Rex had taken off his helmet, and tapped their foreheads together, thumbs reaching up to wipe his tears.

_“Udesii, vod”_ , he said softly. “I’m glad to see you.”

Fox didn’t see Rex look up and mouth a “thank you” at his General while he wrapped his arms around him.

“Ani?” Padmé asked, and there was uncertainty in her voice – concern.  
“Cody is the highest-ranking clone in the GAR”, Anakin said. “We’ll need him. If he doesn’t relay the order…”

Fox looked up, his eyes hardening at the thought of the chips in his brothers’ heads.

“You can do it for them, sir? Disable it?”

Anakin nodded.

“I can’t do that on a large scale, but this will have to be enough. Rex, Cody”, he added. “Come inside.”  
“What’s happening, sir? What do you want to disable?” Rex asked, following his General.  
“The control chips in our brains”, Fox replied, his voice steeled. “Mine is already disabled, you won’t feel a thing.”

Both his brothers stilled.

_“Control chips?”_  
“Don’t say anything more”, Skywalker warned him. “Not until I’m sure it’s safe.”

Fox nodded, though he wasn’t happy about it. Gently, he directed Rex to sit on the couch, his armour strangely displaced in the Senator’s living-room, and Anakin knelt by his side.

“You trust me?” Anakin asked.  
“With my life, sir”, Rex replied without hesitation.  
“Good. It’ll be quick.”

Anakin closed his eyes, and opened them again a minute later.

“Cody, your turn.”  
“What, you’re already done?” Rex said, surprised. “I didn’t feel a thing.”

Anakin bared his teeth.

“That’s precisely the point.”

A moment later, Cody was done too. Fox grabbed them and pulled them away.

“Let me explain, sir”, he told Anakin.

The man nodded and Fox retreated to his room with them, seeing the confusion on their faces. And then he started to talk, and anger, indignation, and fear passed over them. They took off their armours and wrapped themselves around him, and Fox had forgotten what it felt like, to be with his brothers like this. He had no idea how much time had passed when Rex finally talked.

“What was that, with the General touching your face like this? I’ve never seen him do that. Only with the Senator, when they thought no one was looking.”

Fox felt himself flush, and his reaction pulled a laugh from Cody.

“Really, Fox’ika? General Skywalker?”  
“Not my fault!” he protested. “The bastard _flirted_ with me when he kidnapped me!”

Rex snickered.

“At least, _I’m_ used to my General flirting with anything that moves. Even if its currently trying to kill him”, Cody joked, and Fox snorted. “Skywalker can’t flirt for shit.”  
“That’s where you’re wrong”, Rex replied. “On Kadavo, with the Queen. He was very smooth. I’ve only seen him be awkward with the Senator, and even then, it’s kinda cute.”  
“Yeah, well”, Fox grumbled, “at least neither of you forgot who you were talking to and told a karking General to at least buy you dinner first.”

Cody burst out laughing.

“What did he reply?” Rex asked, barely holding back his own laughter.  
“That he could ‘float a pear for me’. I still wonder if he meant that literally or if it was some sort of code.”

This time, Rex lost it and buried his head in Fox’s chest, shaking with laughter.

“If it’s not code, it ought to be”, Cody mused.  
“Stop mocking me”, Fox growled, hitting Cody’s arm.  
“You gotta try it on Kenobi”, Rex suggested to his 212th brother, and Cody’s eyes crinkled with mirth.  
“Oh, General, could you float a pear for me?” Cody said in a ridiculously high-pitched voice, and Fox couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

He fell asleep at some point, and when he woke up, General Kenobi and his new Padawan, Commander Tano, had set up camp in the Senator’s living-room, their faces incredibly grim. There was a matching expression on Rex and Cody’s faces, which he supposed were appropriate to the dire warning they’d gotten.

When dawn came, they had a plan to deposit the Sith turned Chancellor, and Fox was part of it. They were also laying in one big heap on the floor, too tired and unwilling to go elsewhere. Fox wasn’t too sure how he’d come to be cocooned with his head on Anakin’s chest, both his brothers plastered to him, with Padmé curled up against her husband and Kenobi’s head pillowed on Cody’s thigh, Tano sprawled over them all and delightfully warm, but he was a bit too content to be where he was. Sleepily, he nuzzled into Skywalker’s chest, a hand splayed over his stomach, and let out a contented breath.

Everything would be fine.


	6. Phantom Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cyare: beloved

Fox figured his hand was worth putting the killing bolt into Sidious’ head. Three weeks had passed since they enacted the plan and got the galaxy rid of Sidious, Dooku and Grievous not long to follow – not that Fox had seen much of this. He’d lost his left hand mid-forearm to the Sith’s lightsabre, but every now and then, his phantom hand hurt. Anakin had assured him it was normal, that it had taken him some time to get used to his prosthetic, and that every now and then, he still got phantom pain.

“I can ease it for you, you know”, his lover said softly, bent over the metallic prosthetic fitted to his forearm. “The pain.”  
“I can take it.”  
“You don’t have to”, Anakin replied, looking up. “Fox, you don’t have to.”

Fox pursed his lips, and nodded mulishly. Anakin’s flesh hand curled around his face and he felt his pain leak out of his body, easing his shoulders from their strained set. Anakin smiled, and went back to his work.

Fox’s new hand was state of the art. Anakin had tweaked it to near perfection and it almost felt like the one he’d been decanted with. It also didn’t look anywhere near realistic, but Fox had wanted it that way. He’d lost it bravely, honourably, and it clearly set him apart from his brothers. After years of being hidden behind uniform sets of armours, he needed to claim his uniqueness back. Red and white swirled graciously over the limb, and Anakin closed the little trap where he’d been tinkering.

“There, you’re all set”, he said with a smile.

Fox linked their fingers together, prosthetic to prosthetic, and looked at him with heat blooming in his chest. Three weeks being cared for by Anakin and Padmé, being _loved_ for being who he was, but he was still a bit shy around them, unsure about what he’d done to deserve their affection. Anakin had explained that when he’d seen inside his head, he’d fallen in love almost instantly. That, and he’d had a vision, like he’d had for Padmé. Either way, Fox was surely falling in love, something he hadn’t planned for.

“Thank you, _cyare_.”

He leant forward, and Anakin closed the space between them, fitting their lips together. There too was a phantom pain when Anakin wasn’t around, like a bruise on his lips, like something was missing. This, however, was a pain Fox could manage.

“Say”, Anakin breathed against his lips, smiling. “I suppose you’re the one to be thanked for the new code phrase?”  
“What code phrase?” he asked, curious.  
“Well, I heard Fives ask Master Unduli if she could ‘float a pear for him’ and I’d never seen her blush like that.”  
“Fives did _what?”_ Fox screeched, and promptly buried his face in his hands. “Rex and Cody”, he moaned. “I didn’t think they were serious when they said it ought to be a code.”  
“She did float a pear to him”, Anakin replied, “which he seemed both delighted by and slightly disappointed with. I suppose it wasn’t supposed to be taken literally.”

Fox didn’t have time to answer, Obi-Wan was entering the room, looking slightly confused.

“Ah, Anakin. Do you know why Cody just asked me if I could float a pear for him in the sultriest voice ever?”

Fox bit back a laugh.

“What did you answer, sir?” Fox asked – unable to drop the ‘sir’ yet.  
“I said yes, of course. Like I would deny him anything”, he replied with a roll of his eyes. “He looked very pleased at that, which makes me wonder if I agreed to something I shouldn’t have.”  
“That’s code for ‘are you down to kriff’”, Anakin replied with his legendary tact, and Fox lost it.

Obi-Wan spluttered and turned a deep red.

“Oh, Force.”

There was a phantom pain on Fox’s lips, but it was easily fixed.


	7. Tattoos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde: Mandalorian marriage vows. We are one when we're together, we are one when we're apart, we share all, we will raise warriors.

Tattoos were common amongst the _Vode_ , and Fox wasn’t… immune. He wasn’t sure if that was the right word, tattoos weren’t some kind of virus you caught and transmitted. Or at least, that had been what he thought. For some _Vode_ , tattoos were a deeply personal thing and they were under their clothes. Others, like Jesse from the 501st, Dogma, Bly or Fives, wore theirs on their faces, in plain sight. For Fox, it was neither. He was fine with his friends and brothers seeing his, but he didn’t want just anyone seeing them either.

The Jedi Order symbol on his outer ankle had hurt like a bitch to get, but it was one he was fond of. The little, colourful fox curled on his hip was another one, the first he’d gotten, actually. He had had Vode An tattooed on his left wrist, but of course, that had been gone with his hand. He loved how Anakin traced them, with the tip of his fingers, reverently, just like he traced his scars. His lovers’ skins were blank canvas, when he was slowly covering his up.

He had started to get a sleeve on his right forearm, but it was still to be coloured. Padmé had helped him a lot in getting the design – flowers, all from Naboo, the message they told subtle. Most would ignore it even _held_ a message, but it definitely claimed Padmé as his own, as one part of his heart. He had another one planned for later, over his upper arm, meant to merge seamlessly with the flowers, for all that it represented mechanics, for Anakin.  
So, tattoos really weren’t something unknown to him, but Anakin’s proposition still made his heart miss a beat.

“You want…?”  
“Matching tattoos”, Anakin repeated, laying in the middle of the bed, one arm around Padmé’s shoulders as she leant against him, the other around Fox’s, holding him close.  
“Did you have something in mind?” Padmé asked.  
“Well, something discreet”, Anakin replied. “It doesn’t need to be somewhere people see it, even.”  
“It’s a good idea”, Padmé mused, and chuckled. “My family would be absolutely horrified, so I’m not going to say anything about that.”  
“I like it too”, Fox replied, rolling over and climbing over Anakin, settling over his hips.

He glanced at Padmé and winked, and for a second, everything was perfect. Slowly, he bent forward and kissed Anakin.

“How about the vows? The Mandalorian marriage vows?”

The ones they had said on Varykino, where Anakin and Padmé had once gotten married. The words that had rolled off their tongues, promises that had kept him awake at night in their simplicity.

_Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde._

“Perfect”, Padmé whispered.

They did it together, the Mandalorian script curling around Anakin’s wrist, following Padmé’s spine from the base of her head to the small of her back, and stretching over Fox’s neck so that only death may sever them.  
*  
“I want to get another tattoo”, Padmé said one night, surprising them both.  
“Nothing’s stopping you, Angel”, Anakin replied, smiling.

Force, but he was so blind sometimes.

“You already have something in mind, don’t you?” Fox asked, reaching out and taking her hand.

She nodded.

“Our children’s names”, she finally said.  
“There’s still time for that”, Anakin hummed, curling up a bit more against Fox.  
“Well, only seven months”, Padmé replied sheepishly.

Fox’s head snapped up in shock, his jaw falling open. It took Anakin slightly longer to register and decode, but when he did, he sat up brutally, his eyes wide.

“You’re pregnant?!” he burst out, and there was such _joy_ filtering in his voice that Fox laughed, and pulled her against them.  
“Got the confirmation today”, she replied, smiling at their obvious happiness at the reaction.

Eleven months later, in the curved, soft script of Naboo, two names marked their skins: Leia and Luke. Anakin and Fox had them over their hearts; Padmé, in the inner part of her wrist.

*  
“Daddy, what do your tattoos mean?” Luke asked, perched on Fox’s lap, his little fingers tracing the flowers on Fox’s arm.  
“They tell a story”, Fox replied. “Would you like to hear it?”  
“Please!” Leia answered, throwing herself at him.  
“Alright then”, he said with a smile. “A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story ends here for those of you who don't want the smutty bonus chapter! Hope you liked it!
> 
> (Bonus chapter to be posted today)


	8. Your Hands On Me

Fox wasn’t exactly sure how that had happened – how he’d found himself laying on the large bed, with Anakin pressing him into the mattress and kissing him like he was starving. But he certainly wasn’t about to complain – not when the hands against his skin were so warm and felt so good, his clothes in disarray. Anakin gently bit at his neck, and he gasped, his eyes flying open. This was good. His fingers sank into Anakin’s unruly curls and he squirmed on the bed.

“How do you like it?” Anakin asked, lips burning hot against his chest, leaving behind a trail of bites and kisses, marks that would take days to fade and made him feel _good_.  
“What?” he asked, slightly light-headed, as his lover undressed him, calloused fingers mapping out his scars and discovering his body.

Anakin chuckled, and bent forward, pulling the lobe of his ear between his teeth, tracing the shell with his tongue.

“How do you like it”, he whispered seductively. “You want to take me, or would you rather be fucked? Do you like it rough, or slow? What do you want?”

Fox pulled back, and stared back at him.

“I have _no kriffing idea_.”

Anakin seemed taken aback for a second, and then he slapped his hand over his face.

“Force, I’m so sorry, Fox. I forgot.”

Fox felt himself flush, and kicked Anakin’s shin in retaliation.

“Don’t make it a big deal”, he huffed.  
“I _will_ make it a big deal, though”, Anakin answered. “I want it to be good for you. Also, Rex would kill me if I didn’t.”  
“Please stop talking about my brother while we’re in bed”, Fox deadpanned. “It kills the mood.”

Anakin chuckled, and lightly bit down on his lower lip, dragging his hands down his sides and catching the hem of his boxers, slowly dragging them down.

“We’re gonna take it slow”, he promised sultrily. “But I promise you, I have plenty of ideas to make you lose your mind.”

Fox hissed when he wrapped his flesh hand around his cock, lightly stroking. The glide wasn’t smooth enough, but the touch felt sizzling and he arched off the bed and into the touch. This alone could be enough to undo him.

“Mmh, I know just what you’ll like for now”, Anakin whispered, and Fox gasped when he felt both their cocks dragging together.

Slowly, he slid down, laying a trail of kisses down his torso, to his navel, biting lightly and then pursuing lower, to the curls of dark hair going from his navel to the nest surrounding his cock.

Fox hit his head on the pillow when Anakin’s warm, wet mouth closed around the head of his cock, his tongue dragging against the underside as he slowly took him deeper. He was pretty sure the former Jedi had used the Force to get something that had lightly slapped into his hand, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when his lover was bobbing his head over him and making him want to thrash around from the overwhelming pleasure.

Anakin pulled off with one last suck that punched air out of Fox’s lungs, smirking, his pupils blown wide and Fox thought he had never looked so beautiful. Especially since his hand was jerking him off, making up for the loss of his mouth.

“Good?” he asked, and Fox wondered what kind of stupid question that was when he could barely think straight.

Anakin crawled up again, looming over him, and Fox finally noticed how he was settled just over his hips.

“I haven’t done this in a while”, Anakin whispered, “so it might be a tight fit still.”

Fox gulped as Anakin slowly sank down, one hand keeping Fox’s cock still, the other opening his hole so he could take him easily. A wretched moan pulled out of his throat as Anakin sheathed himself over him, one slow inch at a time. It was indeed a tight, hot, wet fit that could very nearly make him cry in pleasure. Anakin’s eyes had fluttered close and he breathed slowly, pacing himself as he sank down and down, until he was sitting flush with Fox’s hips.

He looked glorious, like this, and Fox was very much in love. Grinning, he started to move, rising up and down in a slow rhythm, one hand on Fox’s abs to balance himself, fucking himself thoroughly, searching for the right angle. Fox keened and grabbed his hips, guiding him down, roughening the thrusts and biting back moans of pleasure as he got closer and closer to his orgasm.

“How’s that, Fox?” Anakin asked. “You like that? Or would you rather fuck me yourself? Show me what you’re capable of?”

The taunting words made him growl and he flipped him over, nearly sending them down the bed, hoisting one of Anakin’s long, muscular legs over his shoulder as he drove into him furiously.

“I want to fuck you stupid”, he managed to say. “I want you to scream for me.”  
“Ah- Sithspit _there_ ”, Anakin moaned loudly, spurring him on.

Fox kept the angle and the rhythm, feeling something fierce steer in his chest as Anakin lost control, fingers clenched either over the sheets of over the headboard, which was squeaking and creaking dangerously. It proved too much for him, though, and Fox spilled with a gasp of pleasure, wrapping his hand around Anakin’s cock and bringing him to completion just after him. He let his leg fall and bent forward to kiss him, finding completion in the action.

“I want to do that again”, he said roughly, and Anakin chuckled, looking relaxed and pleased.  
“That definitely won’t be a problem”, Anakin replied.

He pulled himself up lightly to kiss Fox, before he grabbed him into his arms and pulled him down for cuddles. Fox let out a breath and closed his eyes, feeling himself relax into the gentle hold.

This was probably the place he loved most in the world.


End file.
